Breaking Out (11 page)

Chapter 10

Reservations

By Thursday, Lucian still had not left the condo for more than an hour on his own. Evelyn was beginning to get offended. Every time he did run out, housekeeping conveniently came by. She was being babysat like a child.

She hadn't heard any more talk about an apartment, but that was probably because she'd barely been able to use the bathroom alone all week. Tuesday night she lay awake beside him, a sickening thought playing in her head.

He's renting an apartment for another woman.

He wanted it furnished. He wouldn't be able to be in contact with this female for certain amounts of time. Once the thought entered her mind, she tried to discredit it, but the seed had been planted. Was he having an affair?

She was too afraid to ask, afraid he might confirm her suspicions, or worse, lie to her. The only thing that distracted her from the suspicious hurt knifing through her gut was her instinctual need to survive. It became imperative that she find a new job. She needed to be able to support herself, and she was not going back to St. Christopher's if she could avoid it.

She started playing around with her new craft materials. She wasn't sure what she was aiming to make. She didn't use her favorite piece. Rather she played with the others, in case she messed something up somehow.

This was the only distraction from her fears that Lucian was somehow keeping something horrible from her. Using the wire, she formed loops and wound the metal around the sea glass in different, intricate designs. She used various widths of wire and tightly wrapped a thicker strand with thinner wire in order to reinforce it. Before she knew it, she had a bracelet.

She clamped the ends with clasps and soldered the details into place where she could without detracting from the artsy appearance. When she showed Lucian what she'd created, he turned her wrist this way and that and seemed quite impressed. So she made another one and another and eventually tried making a pendant and a ring.

Lucian put a call into his jeweler and had an interesting bar delivered that helped with sizing and allowed her to form the band in a perfect circle. After she made about eight pieces, each one unique, she decided to make something with her favorite piece of sea glass.

Lucian sat, working at his desk as she sorted through her jar of sea glass. She couldn't find her favorite, so she carefully poured the pieces out on a black velvet cloth. It wasn't there.

Stupidly, the missing piece breached some protective wall she'd been hiding behind. Symbolic of every anxiety she had of losing the grip on everything she loved, she completely overreacted to the missing piece of sea glass. Her search became frantic.

She'd never owned beautiful things until recently, and she found a peculiar attachment to this piece, now missing. Panicked, she climbed down from her chair and began searching the floor.

“Evelyn, what are you doing?” Lucian asked, not taking his eyes from his paperwork.

“I'm missing one.” She dragged her fingers over the carpet, clearly seeing it wasn't there. Lifting back up to her worktable, she dumped canisters of typewriter keys, jars of silverware, and her pliers all onto the surface. “It's not here!”

He was suddenly behind her, his warm palms weighing on her shoulders, gentling her alarm. “Hey,
what
isn't there?”

“My favorite piece, the one I love.”

He paused. Why did that word keep intruding in her neatly organized life? Lucian seemed to flinch every time it passed her lips, never in reference to her feelings for him.

He cleared his throat. “The purple one?”

“Yes!” It was irrational to care so much that a piece of glass was gone, but she did.

“I'm sure it'll turn up.” Rather than help her, he walked away. At the sideboard he poured himself a cup of coffee and watched her with a curious look on his face. It irritated her that she was overreacting, but she couldn't help it. It also annoyed her that he didn't seem to care.

“I think you need to get out of the condo for a bit.”

She scowled at him. “I don't want to get out of the condo. I want to find my fucking piece.” Her crass words were overdone and frosted the air between them like shards of ice, cooling the otherwise pleasant morning.

His mug clanked down with a snap, and he walked into the bedroom. She continued to sort through her belongings, slowly righting her canisters and restoring the items she had spilled.

Lucian returned with a new tie dangling from his neck and a suit jacket on. “I'll be back in a little bit.”

“Where are you going?” There was accusation in her voice. Something coiled for a fight deep inside of her.

“I need to take a ride downtown to meet with someone.”

Someone.

Her body stilled, and she had the sudden urge to throw herself at his feet and beg him not to go. He was going to go see
her.
The girl he was renting an apartment for. Anger was overthrown by dread. “Okay,” she said slowly, not sure why she wasn't stopping him. Perhaps she needed to see if he would actually go, so blatantly, right before her eyes.

As he adjusted his cufflinks, pain, jealousy, fear, and anger twisted inside of her until it took everything she possessed not to fall apart in hysterics.

“I should be back shortly. Housekeeping—”

“Lucian, do me a favor and give the babysitters the day off.”

His lips thinned. Rather than argue, he turned and left. She was in a miserable mood. Maybe she did need to get out. But where could she go? Everything was messed up and she feared leaving, feared she might not be welcomed back.

A glimpse of a faceless woman in their home rushed through her mind, and she nearly heaved. Her face pressed into her palms and she groaned. It couldn't be someone else. There had to be a better explanation for why things felt so strained between her and Lucian. There just had to be.

After about twenty minutes of wandering around the suite as though she were lost, she found herself staring at the messy papers strewn across Lucian's desk. Illiteracy was something she hated. Although she was learning to read, the sight of so many written words, a language she was blind to, intimidated her and made her feel helpless.

She needed to know why he was renting an apartment. If he was seeing someone else, she needed to know. She needed to be prepared for the worst.

Flashbacks of the first day they met came hurtling to the forefront of her mind, stilling her hand. Lucian's desk was off limits, but they were not the same people they were then. He trusted her now, right? Then why did the thought of rummaging through his papers feel like such an untrustworthy crime?

Her hand reached to a stack of notes he had scribbled.
Cursive
. She was lost. The sudden shrill bark of the desk phone in the quiet condo had her jumping back. With a shaky hand she reached for the receiver.

“Hello?”

“I'm sorry.”

Relief flooded her. “I'm sorry too. I don't know why I acted—”

Lucian sighed. He sounded as though he was in his limo. “This has been a stressful week. Why don't we get out of the city for a while?”

“And go to your house?”

“Yes. I want . . . I want to escape for a while. I want us to have time together without thinking about anything, but ourselves.”

This was the cleansing they needed. He wanted to clean away the residue still tarnishing their trust. “Lucian, you know I won't lie to you.”
Please just be honest with me.

“I know. I just . . . sometimes I worry about what comes next.”

His cryptic words made her frown. “What do you mean?”

“I have a gift for you, Evelyn, tonight, but . . . but you have to promise me—no matter what—you will go to the country with me immediately afterward.”

Where else would she go? “I promise.”

“Good. Pack a bag and get dressed for dinner. Nothing too sexy. I'll be back in about an hour.”

She laughed. “Since when are you against sexy?”

“Just . . . for tonight. Please.”

Something was off in his voice. If she didn't know better, she'd say he sounded scared, but that was impossible. Nothing frightened Lucian Patras. “Okay.”

She packed a suitcase for the week and showered. She didn't own a lot of clothing that wasn't sexy and for that she blamed Lucian, so she hoped the outfit she chose was appropriate for wherever they were going.

Black tailored pants hugged her hips and hung loose at the calf. She selected a dainty pair of sling-back heels that matched a black bangle bracelet. She wore a sheer white blouse with large black polka dots and a collar that tied in a big ruffled bow. She resembled one of those stewardesses who direct people on a plane.

As she waited for Lucian to return, she boxed up some of her crafts. No matter how much he said he wanted to get away from it all, he wouldn't be able to put work aside for an extended period of time. He would bring work with him, so she figured she might as well bring something to keep herself busy.

The door opened and she turned to find Lucian. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said, his gaze journeying from her shoulders to her feet. He sighed. “You're too beautiful.”

She frowned and then laughed. “Blame the man who buys my clothes.”

“This has nothing to do with your clothes. We could put you in a burlap sack and you'd still be the sexiest woman in any room.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks and she lowered her gaze. His words were sweet, but there was no hiding the look of sadness in his eyes.

“What's going on, Lucian? You look like you're about to walk the gallows.”

He drew in a slow breath. “Did you pack?”

She tilted her chin in the direction of her suitcase.

“Good. I just need to throw some things in a bag. I'll call Dugan and he'll come get our luggage then we can go.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the estate, but we have a stop to make downstairs first. Dinner.”

There was that look again. It scared her. “Lucian,” she said walking to him and wrapping her fingers over his. “Whatever you have planned, you don't seem to be looking forward to it. Let's just go to the estate and forget about things for a while.”

He kissed her. “That's a very sweet offer, but no, I need to do this. I'm doing it for you. Just promise me, like I said, that as soon as our dinner's wrapped up we'll go to the estate and this tension between us will go away.”

She didn't know if one could force tension like this out. It seemed an invisible, heaving beast was snarling over them with bated breath ever since the day they had fought. Sure, they weren't fighting anymore, but Evelyn felt as though she had welcomed something into their life that now wouldn't leave. “Okay, Lucian.”

He called Dugan and went to the bedroom to pack some of his things. When he came out he was wearing his slate gray power suit, the one Evelyn had come to refer to as his “
don't fuck with me” suit.
He wore it whenever he had a big meeting or negotiations. The posh material outlined his shoulders to perfection and fit his waist magnificently. He looked like the offspring of
Forbes
and
GQ
all rolled into one. He never lost when he wore that suit. What was he negotiating?

“Ready?”

Dugan arrived at the condo, removed their bags, and Lucian held her back as the elevator closed behind the chauffeur. He turned her and his lips, warm and sure, pressed over hers.

There were various levels of kissing, Evelyn had come to discover. There were the kisses like cute little snippets that played over lips like plucked petals, whispering childlike flirtations. Then there were kisses that left no room for argument, the kind that demanded your soul and would settle for nothing less. Then there were kisses hinting of dirty deeds in dark nights, the kind of kisses that curled one's toes and had the potency to black out one's mind, leaving a girl never quite sure if she had been kissed or fucked.

Then there were kisses like the one she was receiving now, kisses that ran the gamut of all emotions too intense to speak. Lucian's hold was relentless, his touch proclaiming his potent need. His mouth whispered sweet desperations, and she tasted his fear like a drug flowing into her until desperation caught fire and the fear abated. Kisses like this were confusing. It was a kiss of heroic suicide. The kind soldiers gave their young brides before going to war, knowing they might never have a chance to kiss them so again.

Evelyn grabbed at his neck and pulled him into her. She didn't know what made him kiss her this way, but if he felt this was the kiss they should share, then she'd better give him her all.

Deep breaths drew from his nose as it pressed into her soft cheek. His fingers and palms cupped her face like a chalice. He made love to her, right there in the hall, with only his mouth, and as the meaningfulness evolved, the mystery of the cause became all the more frightening.

He was afraid of something and his distress breathed into her. She didn't want to let go. She wanted to save him.

Several minutes later they broke apart. He pressed his forehead to hers and stared into her eyes. “I love you, Evelyn. I want you to know, no matter the mistakes I've made in the past or the mistakes I'm sure to make in the future, I've never loved anyone the way I love you.”

She nodded, too speechless and confused to comment back.

He cleared his throat and slowly released her. “We better go. We have reservations.”

With all of this cryptic, ominous emotion floating around . . . she had reservations as well.

Chapter 11

“It takes two to make an accident.”

~F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Great Gatsby

Lucian led her through the lobby and toward Vogue.

“We're eating in the hotel?” She had thought they would be going out.

He nodded. “Certain things are meant for a home court advantage, Evelyn.”

Something had shifted in his demeanor since they got off the elevator. Any hint of reserve or worry was now thoroughly hidden away, replaced with impenetrable assuredness. Lucian was back to the man others had learned to fear and obey.

His palm rested lightly, yet possessively, at the base of her spine. He opened the door to Vogue, and the scent of exquisite fare wafted to greet her. Patrons sat in their fine attire, sampling the French cuisine and chatting softly beneath the dim amber lights.

He directed her toward their usual table in the back, where the seating was more private and intimate. Sounds of silverware and whispered discussions fell away as they entered the less occupied room. A man with brown hair sat with his back to the door, awaiting them at their table.

She didn't recognize him, which wasn't unusual. However, her mind naturally crossed off the colleagues of Lucian's she'd met, knowing this was someone new.

They approached the table, and Lucian slipped his hand into hers. He cleared his throat and the man stood. The moment he turned to greet them recognition dawned. Evelyn gasped.

“Parker?”

He smiled and held out his arms. She went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek into his chest. She failed to notice the moment Lucian's grip on her hand fell away, too caught up in her friend's presence. He was thicker, bulkier, his scent a little cleaner. The beard he had the last time she saw him was now gone. His hair was no longer in his eyes. She could barely believe it was him.

His arms wrapped around her back, cocooning her in a warm, familiar way. The weight of his cheek pressed into the top of her hair. “Hey, Scout,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

When had she started crying? She sniffled and wiped her eyes. A lopsided smile pulled on her lips and she batted away her tears. “What are you doing here?”

Her fingers petted over his clothing. He looked as though he robbed a thrift store dealing only in Ralph Lauren. A white dress shirt fit him well, the cuffs rolled to the crease of his elbow and top button undone to display the hollow of his throat. His belt showed over his fitted gray slacks where his tailored gray vest drew up as his arms held her shoulders. A trendy blue tie with horizontal white stripes hung loosely at his neck. He always had that youthful cover model look, a little grunge with the hand-me-downs of polished society. But seeing him in pressed clothing was altogether different than seeing him in a corduroy blazer with elbow patches and a worn, moth-eaten sweater.

His green eyes glittered, the corners creasing with mirth. Her hand rose to touch his hair. “You cut your hair.”

He smiled. “I was due. Why are you crying?” His finger grazed her cheek.

She shook her head. “I thought you were dead.”

“Oh, no, Scout, I would never die without first having the courtesy of telling you.”

She laughed and wiped her eyes. “Where have you been?”

“It doesn't matter,” he whispered.

“It does to me.”

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

It took her a moment, but she got it. So like Parker to start quoting works of literature. “Are you claiming to be Gatsby?” she teased.

His expression sobered. “No,” he said softly. “I'm still Parker, trying to float on and hoping to land in the right part of my past. I've decided to stop fighting the tide.” He looked over her shoulder at Lucian, and Evelyn stepped back, immediately recalling his presence and perceiving her closeness to Parker as wrong in Lucian's eyes.

“Gatsby, for all his efforts and greatness, never could manage his own destiny,” Parker whispered.

She had plenty to say to that, but remained quiet as Lucian retrieved her hand and said, “Let's sit down.”

They sat and a waiter filled their glasses. As Lucian ordered the wine, Evelyn leaned close to Parker and whispered, “Are you off the streets? You look so different. Tell me everything! I can't believe you're sitting here.”

Her fingers continued to trace the sleeve of his shirt, barely touching, but needing to prove he was really there all the same. Lucian reached for her fidgeting hand and held it in his, suppressing her urge to keep touching Parker.

Parker cleared his throat. “Well, I got a job.”

“That's great! Doing what?”

“It's an office job, actually. It's been a day-to-day thing for the past few months. I'm learning my way quickly and I've already gotten two promotions. I just put a deposit down on my own place.”

The pride one might imagine for such an accomplishment was absent. While Evelyn put weight in financial stability, Parker always disqualified it as more of a means to an end. She laughed at the familiar stubbornness. All those pretty clothes did nothing to disguise how unimpressed he would always be by the rich.

“Careful, Parker,” she teased. “In those fancy clothes someone could mistake you for one of those wealthy snobs you so detest.”

He looked down at his chest and grimaced. Brushing an invisible piece of lint off his cuff he said, “Tragic, isn't it?”

“I think you look good.”

“Let's order,” Lucian interrupted, waving over the waiter.

He had been quiet since they arrived. Although he was in complete control of himself, it occurred to her that
he
had done this. He had arranged for her to see Parker. Lucian must have had to hire someone to find him, because Park was clearly not spending time at the tracks or the shelters anymore.

She squeezed Lucian's hand, trying to quietly express her gratitude for such an incredible gift. He smiled at her, but said nothing, just gave her hand an affectionate squeeze back.

The waiter returned and left to inform the chef of their order. Lucian was very reserved. He watched Parker in a manner that cloaked the table with an unsettling mood Evelyn found easier to ignore than acknowledge. Parker was her friend. Lucian had to come to terms with that.

Her mind was still reeling at the fact he was there. “So where are you working?”

“I'm working for a company in the West End. You know how I feel about work. Let's talk about other things. Are you happy?”

The simple question dropped like a sinker into a pool, ripples tickling all of them with its implication. She smiled softly. “Yes, I'm happy,” she said quietly, sending Lucian a gentle flick of her eyes.

Parker looked at Lucian and something in the air shifted. It wasn't a challenge, but rather a silent understanding of sorts. She shifted in her seat. “Lucian hasn't even told me how he found you.”

Parker turned back to her. “It seems Lucian does business with my boss.”

“And who's your boss?”

“Evelyn's been making jewelry,” Lucian chimed in. The sharp twist of topic made her frown. He lifted her wrist and displayed her bracelet. “She made this. She has quite a talent, wouldn't you say?”

Parker examined the bracelet, his finger dragging over the metal band and brushing softly across her pulse. “Lovely. You made this?”

She blushed. “It's just a hobby.”

“Don't minimize your talent, Evelyn,” Lucian said.

“Do you make other stuff?” Parker asked.

She shrugged. “I'm just sort of playing around with some junk I bought at a sidewalk sale. It's nothing, really. I'd much rather hear about what you've been up to.”

“How's Pearl?”

She was getting whiplash from mentally volleying between topics. Why did it seem the two men in her life who openly disliked each other had formed some sort of alliance to shut her out? “Pearl's good. Great actually.”

“Clean?”

“For now. It's a guessing game what tomorrow will bring. Lucian found her a great rehab. She hates it, of course.”

Parker nodded, understandingly. “At least you don't have to visit the tracks anymore. I have no doubt you will do whatever it takes to keep her in the facility she's in now.” His statement was directed at Lucian. She frowned. Of course Lucian would want to keep Pearl where she was receiving the most care. Why wouldn't he?

“Evelyn and I are leaving town for a while,” Lucian suddenly announced.

“How long?”

Her eyes widened when Parker boldly asked of their personal plans. They nearly fell out of her head when Lucian entertained his question with an answer.

“A week or so.” Lucian didn't explain himself to anyone.

Perhaps he was being accommodating so she and Parker could find time to reconnect as friends, but she very much doubted that. This was likely a one-time thing. Lucian wouldn't be comfortable with her and Park hanging out, yet she couldn't shake the odd sense they were talking in code.

“We're going to Lucian's country estate, getting out of the city for a while. You should come visit. I can show off my culinary skills.”

Lucian chuckled and lifted their entwined hands to his mouth, kissing her fingers. “You don't have culinary skills, Evelyn.”

Parker's gaze followed the affectionate gesture.

“Don't tell him that or he won't visit.”

“I'm afraid I have to decline,” Parker said. “I have some things I need to work out over the next week. There is a merger I need to prepare for and I'm afraid I'll need every free minute I have left.” He turned and sent Lucian a pointed look. His eyes softened as he returned his gaze to her. “But I do intend to see you the moment you return, Scout.”

She smiled. “I'd love that.”

The waiter returned with their dinner and the conversation revolved around light subjects, the weather, Pearl, names of acquaintances from the past, Lucian's redevelopment of St. Christopher's.

“We should do this again sometime,” she said as their plates were cleared.

“When do you see your schedule opening up, Hughes?”

Parker looked at Lucian, and there was something knowing and cynical in his gaze. “I believe it's safe to say you will be hearing from me again by the first of the month.”

Lucian's jaw ticked. “Perhaps by then we'll have reason to celebrate once more.”

Evelyn frowned and Parker's eyes narrowed. “That soon? I think you overestimate yourself, Patras.”

That was it. She couldn't take any more. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

They both looked at her, but neither made a peep. Lucian signed the tab and stood, helping her to her feet. “It was an experience, Hughes.”

Parker stood and reached for Evelyn's hand. “Scout . . . I'm sorry I made you worry. Here.” He handed her a business card with only his name and number, no company name or even accenting designs. “Call me if you need anything.”

She took the card and placed it in her purse. Why did everything seem so final all the sudden? All affability seemed to have slipped away the moment they stood.

Parker hugged her and she had a hard time letting go. When he stepped back, Lucian retrieved her hand.

“We'll be seeing you, Hughes.”

“Count on it,” Parker said, and then he was gone.